


An explorer of food.

by Katefkndoes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Five times sort-of, I Don't Even Know, This got way out of control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2194173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katefkndoes/pseuds/Katefkndoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled: If food be the music of love... or something like that.</p><p> </p><p>Five times Darcy took Steve to try new foods and the one time he took her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An explorer of food.

**Author's Note:**

> All the mistakes are my own. I don't own the characters, but man if I did...
> 
> I'm not entirely sure how this happened. It was an experimental style for me to some extent and I'm not sure it completely worked. But I figured I might as well post anyway.
> 
> However, if anyone is ever in New York, there really is a lovely frozen yoghurt shop right by it.

It was a gloriously sunny day – 90 degrees – in New York, and Darcy Lewis was hot as fuck.  She had spent the morning running around after her new boss, Tony Stark.  (And when the hell did she get so important that she was allowed to be a billionaire’s personal assistant?)  Her mother had a field day when she found out, and promptly rang, what felt like, the entire population of her home town.  Seriously, she had gone back home a couple of weeks after she started and people who didn’t even know her name in High School were asking her what it was like to work with Tony Stark.  Her answers had ranged from in-depth considerations of his temperament at the beginning of the weekend to a simple ‘fine’ by the Sunday.

The air conditioning in Stark Tower – which the Bugle had renamed Avengers tower, much to Tony’s amusement, and just about everyone else’s perpetual dissatisfaction – was heavenly.  It was like walking into a fridge, and she had _really_ appreciated it until she walked up to the actual fridge freezer and found it seriously lacking in the ice-cream department.  At which point, she had been nothing short of distraught.

She collapsed on the over-sized couch, fully prepared to spend the rest of her afternoon wallowing in self-pity, weighing the aching in her feet against her craving for frozen dairy products.  She wanted frozen yoghurt and she wanted it bad, but she’d made the mistake of wearing heels that morning and after running around the city she was feeling less than thrilled at the prospect of walking anywhere, even if there was frozen goodness at the end.

Her boots were off and her feet were propped against the plush leather of the couch when she was joined in the communal lounge – and wasn’t that another benefit of her job, sharing accommodations with a bunch of world famous Superheroes.  Especially when said Superheroes also happened to have been voted amongst People’s most beautiful people of the year, two years running.  Hell, she’d actually started going to the gym since the scenery was _far_ more enjoyable than any other she had been too.  There was something worryingly attractive about watching a group of sweaty men taking turns to beat each other down.  (And if she’d noticed how good Natasha’s ass looked in the yoga pants she trained in, then no one was going to judge her for it).  She smiled at the thought, lost in her own mind and rubbing at the balls of one of her sore feet.

“I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon,” she was torn from her reverie by a deep voice emulating from behind the open fridge door.  She watched as Steve Rogers, in a move that was reminiscent of a cheesy porn film, pulled out a bottle of water and tilted his head back to down it.  Her eyes followed the motion of the liquid down past his stretched neck to his sweat soaked t-shirt and visible abs.

“Jesus,” she breathed to herself, “so hot.”  And because God hated her, (more likely because Steve was an enhanced Super-Soldier), of course he heard it.  He finished the bottle, crunching it up in his large fist and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.  “You’re hot, like really hot, I mean you look like you’ve gone a few rounds.”  His eyebrow rose even further and Darcy cursed herself.  “You’re sweaty.”  She finally finished, feeling the heat rise across her own face.  Normally, she would be able to downplay such idiocy with a disinterested shrug or a witty comment.  However, Steve was _so_ distractingly attractive that she didn’t trust herself to offer either.

“Oh,” he said, somewhat disappointedly, she thought, although she was never entirely sure what he was thinking.  “I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize anyone would be around, or I…” he gestured to his sweat soaked attire.  “I should go and change,” he finished awkwardly.  Now, if anyone were to ask Darcy what had possessed her to stop him from leaving she would never be able to recall, but in that moment she spoke without engaging her brain.  (Not for the first time, and certainly not for a last).

“Oh no, no, I don’t mind.  I just, I wanted ice-cream - or any chilled food really - and there’s a great little frozen yoghurt place just across the road.  And I figure, that I’m hot and well, _you’re_ hot,” it was at about that point that Steve began to smirk, but she continued anyway, “so we should go and get some frozen yoghurt, because that’s what hot people do.”  It was like she was on the outside looking in on her own demise.  She wondered, dimly, whether any of the people from back home would be quite so jealous of her new position if they could see her now.  Belatedly, she realized that maybe Steve Rogers, a man who had spent a good seventy years on ice, wouldn’t be so up to enjoying some Fro-Yo, but it seemed a little late at that point and she merely offered him a shrug.

“I don’t think the frozen yoghurt is at fault for my time ‘on ice’.”  Once again his voice cut through her thoughts.

“Shit, I said that out loud?”   To his credit, Steve merely offered her a small nod.  No, she decided, her contemporaries back home would certainly not be quite so jealous if they could see her now.  In fact, maybe she should write a book, entitled: Darcy Lewis And How Not To Talk To Attractive Men.  She figured, given her recent experiences in the tower, it could potentially be a best seller.  And despite her new found respectability, she would accept the royalties on that _beautiful_ piece of literature gladly.

“You’re writing a book?”  The blond asked, clearly amused.

“Oh for fucks sake.”  Darcy half-yelled, pulling a pillow up and burying her face into it, which caused Steve to laugh.

“I’ll just go and grab and shower and then you can introduce me to the wonders of frozen yoghurt,” he replied, simply.  And Darcy allowed herself to peak over her pillow to watch him leave.

Steve showered like a soldier, which meant that he was showered, changed, and back in her company within fifteen minutes.  His hair was still slightly damp, and stuck up in odd directions, and his jeans clung snuggly to the v-lines of his hips that were visible through the khaki t-shirt he’d changed into.  It was a surprisingly good look.

“Ready?”  He asked, pointedly looking at her bare feet.  She wiggled her toes in response.

“Do you think I could go without shoes.”  The look on his face told her that he certainly didn’t think that was a good idea.  “You could always carry me?”  She asked hopefully.

“I could,” he agreed.  And she closed her eyes, and screwed up her nose.

“But you’re not going to, right?”  He shook his head, a smile toying at the corners of his mouth.  And really, how was it fair that he had such deliciously full lips?  “Fine, I’m going to get my cons.”  She stood, with about as much grace as a baby deer, hobbled back through the lounge and took the elevator to the floor which housed her apartment.

It took her almost half an hour to return, because once she put on her converse, she immediately realized what an absolute idiot she would look in boot cut pants and a button down shirt, which lead to a complete outfit change.  Which, in turn, ruined her neatly pinned up hair.  All in all, she was very surprised, (and extremely flustered), when she returned to the lounge and Steve was still waiting for her.

He looked at her for a few moments, as though he was deciding whether he should comment on her tardiness, but seemingly thought better of it because he merely gestured back to the elevator.

“Shall we go?”  And really, she would go anywhere that arm told her do.

“Uh, yeah.”  She replied smoothly, before adding.  “I, uh, sorry I took so long.”  She finished lamely, because she felt _some_ acknowledgement of her extreme faffing was necessary even if he wasn’t willing to do it.  She vaguely wondered whether she intimidated him and what’s why he didn’t comment, but that was probably wishful thinking on her part.

“Don’t worry about it Darcy,” he said with a soft smile. 

The shop was located just in front of Grand Central, opposite the viaduct; it had been the first place Darcy found when she stepped off her train from the airport.  They ordered quickly, and sat at the small bar in the window that permitted them a partial view of the tower.  Steve looked so confused at the counter, between the different flavors, toppings and sizes of dessert that Darcy had taken pity on him and ordered for them both.  Two large vanilla cups, with granola and candied pecan nuts – her personal favorite.  Steve seemed to agree because he finished his before she had even made her way through half of hers, and really, given how fast she tended to eat that was nothing sort of impressive.

“Told you it was good,” she said, elbowing his rock-like bicep and taking another mouthful of her own dessert.  He nodded, looking between her and the empty counter.  He opened his mouth to say something, but she already knew what he was thinking.  “I’m totally not going to judge if you want to get another one.”  She said with a grin.  There was something adorable about his desire for approval over something so trivial.  He took a quick look around and then leaned towards her.

“Supersoldier metabolism.”  He said quietly, as though he needed to justify himself.  Which he totally didn’t need to do, _no one_ who looked at him was going to think he was slacking in the gym-going department.

 “Sweet tooth.”  She countered, and he raised both eyebrows in a silent challenge, but nodded in agreement anyway.  “Honestly, I’m debating a second myself.  I like to think I’ll work it off at the gym later.  I mean, obviously I won’t,” he actually laughed at that.  It was like the sound of angel choirs as far as Darcy was concerned, and made her feel much better about her earlier ridiculousness.  “But I like to convince myself it’s a possibility.”  She watched as he slid off the stool and headed back over to the rustic looking counter and ordered a second cup.  The woman looked bemused, but sorted his order anyway.

“That’ll be five sixty,” she said, eying him for a few moments.  And Darcy pinpointed the _exact_ moment she realized who he was by the stunned look that spread across her face.  “I mean, that’s fine.  It’s on me,” her eyes widened at the connotations.  “I mean, it’s on the house.”  She fumbled over the words, and Darcy was immensely grateful that she’d bought Steve there; because it made her feel slightly better to know that she wasn’t the only one who lost their shit around Captain America.  Steve looked at her for a long moment, before placing the twenty he’d pulled out to pay in the tip jar.

“Thank you,” he said with the kind of earnest gratitude only he was able to project.  The girl shrugged, self-consciously.  Darcy seriously considered giving the girl her number, because she could totally relate to the feeling of inadequacy being around Steve caused.

“You kind-of saved my life during the attack.  Seems like the least I could do.” She replied honestly, and Steve offered her a small smile, bowing his head slightly.

“You are _more_ than welcome.”  There was an innate sincerity to his words that couldn’t be denied, and the girl’s eyes watered with thankful tears.

The door opened and a group of teenagers walked in, talking loudly and completely destroying the charged atmosphere.  Steve took his cup and smiled at the girl, as she swiped the back of her hand over her eyes and turned to serve the next customer.

They left soon after that, making the short journey over to the tower in silence.  After witnessing such an intense situation, she found herself at a loss for words.  It might have been a little awkward, but it was damn well better than her managing to fuck up with yet another inappropriate comment – probably about the quality of arm porn he was rocking.  (Although, once she thought about how _criminally_ toned his arms were, she really couldn’t stop thinking about it).

“Well, thanks for a fun afternoon, Cap.  I’m off to the gym to try and work off those eight hundred calories I could have done without.”  She patted her stomach in an over-exaggerated manner, for effect.  The blond’s eyebrows knitted together in contemplation, and Darcy couldn’t help but think that was probably a bad sign.  However, when he blatantly dragged his eyes up and down her body, she felt the heat rise in her stomach.  Maybe he had fallen for her _unusual_ charms. 

Somehow, she doubted it.

“Don’t ever change,” he said, seriously.  She blinked several times in response, but he didn’t give her time to reply.  “Thank you, for introducing me to frozen yoghurt.”  He smiled.  Now, that, she could reply to.

“That’s me, the go-to girl for fun time twenty-first century foodstuffs.  I bet Natasha doesn’t take you for food,” she paused for a moment.  “Please don’t tell her I said that.  I want to feel safe in my bed.”  She closed her eyes and bit her lip to silence herself, and Steve laughed again.  There really was something desperately attractive about his laugh. 

“I’ll try to remember that,” he said with another small smile.  “Can’t promise I won’t tell Natasha though,” he added, with an actual honest-to-God smirk.  Smirking was a really good look on Captain America as it turned out.  “Uh, thanks?”  Steve replied to her not-so-silent comment.

“Oh seriously?”  She replied in annoyance at herself and he nodded.  She threw her hands up in and huff.  “I’m gonna go before I managed to embarrass myself anymore.  See you around, Cap.”  She said with faux cheer as she headed up the stairs to her own apartment.

“See you around, Darcy Lewis.”  He said with a laugh, heading back to the communal lounge.

 

**********

 

Steve was leaving the tower to go on his morning run when Darcy returned from her ‘quiet night out’ with some of the younger members of Stark’s company.  And really, at twenty-five, she was entirely too old to be coming home when the sun was coming up.  Even as she stumbled into the elevator - barely drunk on anything other than tiredness, because she’d spent half the night consoling Kelly on the fact that Chase didn’t seem to notice her – she knew she was going to regret it when she woke up in the morning. 

So, when she clambered out of the elevator and straight into six foot two of solid muscle, she practically melted into him.  She figured if she was going to feel awful later on then she might as well give herself something nice to remember when she woke up.  And if her hands naturally fell onto the dip of his back, then she could not be held accountable for it.

Obviously, four hours after she had collapsed into bed without removing her make-up, she was woken up by the incessant ring of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody.  _Thunderbolt and lightening very, very frightening,_ drilled into her ear from under her pillow, which meant that Jane needed her.  And really, considering it was barely nine on a Saturday, she really felt she might need some new friends.  (She also appreciated that Jane’s ringtone was absurd).

“ ‘lo.”  She muttered, groaning as she opened her eyes and found them stuck together by her mascara.  What a classy individual she was.

“Good, you’re still awake.  I need you to get us coffee, I think we’re on the verge of a big break here.”  Darcy blinked several times, barely comprehending what she was hearing.  What fresh hell had she been worked up by?

“Have you been to sleep yet?”  Her tone might have been a little bit harsh and very accusatory, but it was her weekend and she wasn’t impressed at being woken up.  The silence on the other end of the phone gave her the only answer she needed, and she rolled her eyes.  “Who’s we and what can I get you?”  There was no point trying to talk sense to Jane when she was in fully-engaged science-mode.

“Me, Eric, Bruce, Tony’s here somewhere – he said you wouldn’t mind.”  She said, somewhat offhandedly.  Had Darcy been more alert, she would have text her boss some abuse for _that._   “Oh and there’s a couple of interns.  We need a three pump, non-fat chai latte…”

“Text me a list.”  She cut her friend off because there was no way she was going to remember multiple orders.  “I’ll see you in half an hour.”  Groaning, she pulled herself out of bed, and headed towards her bathroom – grimacing at the state of her face.  Still, it wasn’t like she had time for a shower.  She quickly wiped off her make-up, ran her hands through her wavy hair a few times, before drawing it back up into a hair-tie.  Despite it being August, the weather was unseasonably cold, so she pulled on a hair of skinny jeans, a baggy sweater and headed off to get everyone else coffee.

Clearly, because she looked and felt like a bag of shit, she was faced with Steve Rogers the moment she made her way down to the communal floor.  Not that it really mattered, because they’d barely had time to talk since they had gone for frozen yoghurt a couple of weeks before.  (She was _still_ trying not to think too much about that).  If she still had a shot with him – because she was only human and he was very, _very_ attractive and obviously she’d considered it – she certainly wouldn’t now.  Not when he’d seen her at her absolute worse.  He looked her up and down with a half-smile that was _far_ too awake for such an early time.  God, she hated him a little bit for that.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you awake so early.”  He’d obviously showered since his earlier run, and was now sporting a checked shirt that fitted him sinfully well.  She blinked several times, still not completely awake, and probably making herself even less attractive. 

“Scientists need coffee, apparently.  Not like I need sleep or anything.  Or a day off.  It’s all good.”  She said with a wave of her hand. “I wasn’t really planning on running into anyone.”  She gestured down to the mess that was herself.  “No one’s going to judge me in Starbucks – I’ve seen the people who work there.”  She shrugged, and he smiled again.

“Ah, Starbucks.”  He said with all the knowledge of someone who had very little experience with the place.  “Tony keeps trying to get me to go there, even though he says the coffee is below average.”

“Well, it is,” she admitted, “but it’s also delicious, and the one in Time Square is open all night, which, you know, sucks for the staff but is so, so good when you’ve just got off a late night train.”  He nodded in understanding, although she couldn’t imagine he’d ever had that problem.  And then it dawned on her.  Something so horrific she couldn’t imagine it could be true.  “Wait a minute, Tony keeps _trying_ to get you to have Starbucks.  Does that mean you’ve never been?”  He shook his head in response.  She swallowed, taking a second to calm herself, and prevent an outburst.  “You’ve never had a Starbucks!?”  She almost squeaked.  Well, so much for being calm.  But she was started by that point, so she might as well continue.  Ah, another out-of-body embarrassment moment.  Even as she spoke she felt herself cringing at her own words.  However, that feeling had never stopped her before.  “How is that possible?  I mean _how?_   There’s _literally_ one on every block at this point?  How?”  She was aware that she sounded vaguely psychotic but she was caffeine deprived herself, and if he couldn’t understand she needed coffee to function in the morning then they would never ben friends.  She blinked up at him, hands on her hip, and physically demanded a response.

“Well, in case you didn’t know…”

“Do _not_ use that excuse.  You’ve been defrosted for two damn years.  I mean - it’s practically un-American, that you haven’t been at this point.”  He shrugged, but she shook her head, rushing towards him and dragging him towards the elevator.  It occurred to her once they were in the lobby that he probably had his reasons for neglecting coffee, but she also figured that he could bench press a car and wouldn’t have allowed himself to be taken anywhere he didn’t want to go.

Once in Starbucks, she diligently read off the list of orders Jane had sent her to a _very_ entertained barista and added an order of a caramel macchiato with two extra shots for herself, before eying Steve and waiting for him to order.  He looked at her for a long moment, and then he started to smirk.

“Oh, hell no, you are _not_ ordering an Americano.”  He looked a little dejected, but she was not about to let him judge Starbucks by that sludge masquerading as coffee.  She looked at him for moment, and remembered his enjoyment of all things sweet.  “He’ll have a mocha frappe, extra coffee, extra syrup, cream and chocolate sprinkles.”  She decided for him.  The barista, who now looked incredibly bemused, merely looked at him questioningly, to which he replied with a shrug.

“Whatever, the lady says.”  The man nodded in understanding.  Darcy shot both of them a cold glare.

Ten minutes later they were back at the tower, each carrying multiple drinks.  However, when they entered the labs, they were not greeted with any sort of appreciation, which irritated Darcy more than was probably rational.  Bruce and Jane merely collected their drinks without uttering a word, still engrossed in whatever calculations were on their respective tablets, and Tony looked between them for a long moment before he turned to Steve.

“I’m appalled, Capsicle.  What about your principles?  What about supporting the hard working independent coffee companies?  What about the standard of coffee used?  What about the little children?”  He finished dramatically, before taking a long drink of his six shot latte, and almost groaning in appreciation.

“She said it was un-American.”  Steve said, after a long moment, and Darcy felt a twist at her gut again, when Tony nodded.  There was definitely some inside joke that she was missing.

“I see how it is.”  Tony responded, and Steve merely raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to one side.  And what the hell did that mean?  “I’m watching you, Miss Lewis.”  He added, turning his attention Darcy briefly, before marching off.

“Should I _even_ ask?”  Darcy enquired, as she pulled her own drink out of a cup holder and handed the blond his frappe.

“He’s just being Tony.”  Steve answered, as though that was explanation enough, and took a sip of his drink.  And really, it should have been illegal to look _that_ good while sucking a drink through a straw.  He pulled the straw out of his mouth, licking his lips, and smiling at her.  “This is really good, by the way.”

“That’s my superpower.  Knowing what Starbucks drinks people will like best.  Seriously, it’s a life-saving skill.”  Steve merely shot her another half-smile and returned his attention to his drink.  And Darcy was so very fucked.  And not in the good way… unfortunately.

 

**********

 

“That’ll be $328.43, with tax.”  The overly-cheerful cashier said, and Steve made a small squeak next to her.  Darcy would have been just as startled, but she had just been issued with a Stark credit card, and she was sure as hell going to get her money’s worth out of it after the shit Tony had been pulling her.  Besides, even if Stark actually charged her – unlikely – nothing could take away the memory of Steve gleefully piling sweets into the bright basket.  She handed over the card with a grin so wide it almost hurt.

“You spent three hundred bucks on candy?”  The super-soldier asked, his voice noticeably higher than usual.  And really, what did he expect when they had spent the best part of the last two hours wondering around Dylan’s Candy store?  (Especially when he had been the proverbial kid in the candy store).  In all honesty, it was a miracle they hadn’t managed to spend more.  Hell, Darcy had come to the store when she received her first pay check from Stark and managed to spend seventy dollars of her own money, so she was surprised they hadn’t made quadruple figures, given the fact she had decided that Tony was footing the bill.

“No.  _Tony_ did.”  She said with a smile, and Steve merely pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Don’t look at me like that.  He sent me a memo yesterday demanding I purchase, and I quote: a ten inch black dildo, a jumbo pack of lubricant, and the Avengers porno on Blu-ray.”  Steve choked on the rhubarb and custard he’d absent-mindedly been sucking.  “Special edition only, of course.”  At that point, the young cashier looked at the business name on her card and back up at her, before focusing on Steve, which totally meant they were busted.  But still, in for a penny.

“He didn’t.”  Steve said, recovering quickly, shaking his head almost in hopeful that she was joking.  Naturally, she wasn’t. 

“It’s Tony, of _course_ , he did.”  The blond shook his head in dismay.  “He does it to fuck with me.  That man can find _anything_ online – just ask Clint about his freshman poetry readings.”  Steve raised an amused eyebrow but Darcy waved him off in an ‘I’ll show you later’ gesture.  “He wanted to see whether I’d do it or not.”  She signed for their purchase.

“Did you?”  He asked, almost warily, and she levelled a look at him that showed just how disappointed she was in his lack of faith.  They’d spent enough time together for him to know that she was not one to back down from a challenge.

“It was on his desk at eight am this morning, along with the receipt for my new high tops.  _This_ ,” she gestured to the bags of candy on the counter, “is the least he can do after that.”  Steve laughed, the action causing his eyes to crinkle slightly.  “No seriously, I had to go into a shop and buy it, the man looked so disappointed, which, you know, is highly judgmental given his choice of profession.”  She shrugged, looping her hand through on of the over-stuffed bags.

“Before you go, Captain Am… Captain Rogers, would it be possible for you to fill one of these?”  The cashier asked, suddenly shyly, proffering him a plastic container and motioning to the display of celebrity picked sweets next to the till.  Steve seemed genuinely taken aback, and wasn’t that just like him?  Darcy had been spending increasing amounts of time with the soldier, and though he was recognized fairly regularly he always seemed surprised when people treated him like he was famous.  Part of it, she supposed, was that he grew up in an era before telecommunications were a part of everyday life, but at least part of it was because he legitimately couldn’t see why anything he did was special.  After all, it wasn’t like he had two Medals of Honor and countless other accolades, and it _certainly_ wasn’t as though he’d helped save the world from an alien invasion or anything.  Oh, _wait._   Darcy rolled her eyes, and elbowed him in the ribs to elicit a response.

“I, uh, sure.”  He said, awkwardly, shooting Darcy a questioning look.  And really, the man had fought off Nazi’s, aliens and, more recently, his own government, and he still managed be completely incapable of acting like a normal person at times.  However, Darcy reasoned, given their recent interactions, she was hardly in a position to judge.  Plus, there was something incredibly endearing about the hesitant expression he got when he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

In the end he filled the small tub with cinnamon imperials, a blueberry candy stick and several white jelly rings.  That selection, as far as Darcy was concerned, was blatantly selected just to troll everyone who looked at the box because it made for a pretty red, white and blue display.  Nevertheless, Steve appeared to be pleased with himself (furthering her troll theory); the cashier seemed thrilled and very politely asked Darcy if she’d mind taking a picture of her and Steve “for the display.”  Yeah, right.

When she returned to her desk later the following day, there was a note waiting from Stark.  She had expected him to comment on the unauthorized expenditure, but she didn’t expect him to do via a bag of Rosy Apples and a post it note.

_For four hundred dollars, I hope you at least made second base :)_ _  
_

Christ, she wished she’d made second base, or first base.  Really, any of the bases would have been fine.  Hell, a casual grope of one of his beautifully sculpted arms would have done.  But, alas, she was firmly in the friend territory as far as Steve was concerned.  Still, being friends with Captain America was hardly something to sniff at.

_PS these are the good Captain’s favorite – don’t say I never get you anything._

She closed her eyes and scrunched up the note.  The last thing she needed was Stark to think something might be going on between them.  Particularly, when there wasn’t a cold hope in Hell that the super-soldier would even look at her twice that way.

 

**********

 

It was a dreary Thursday in October, and Darcy was infinitely grateful that she worked where she lived, because there was no way her hair would survive a trip outside, given the pelting of rain the windows were receiving.  When she finished work – after she had sorted all the red skittles out of five normal bags so that Tony could have a bag of all red ones – she headed straight for her apartment to shower and get changed.  (And she _might_ have drawn a penis on the image of Tony’s face which smiled up at her from the US Weekly on her bedside table).

By the time she made her way to the common room, at Jane’s behest, it was pushing seven and the room was packed full of Avengers.  Although it was not an odd occurrence to see one or two of them at a time, for so many of them to appear – including Wanda and Pietro – something major was going down.  Rather selfishly, she couldn’t help but think that pretty much meant the end of her planned quiet night in.

“Darcy, as the Captain’s lady friend you will be able to shed some light on his location.”  Thor pronounced by way of greeting. 

“I, uh, what?”  She mumbled, as a gaggle of eyes turned to look at her.  Not one of them offered her an explanation. 

“JARVIS?”  Tony said by way of instruction.

“Captain Rogers left the building at five this morning and hasn’t returned since.”

“That’s not a big deal.  Just ring him.”

“We have tried contacting Captain Rogers, but it seems that he left his cell in his room.”  JARVIS supplied, since no one else seemed willing to speak.  And honestly, what was that about?  Just because she wasn’t a master assassin, didn’t have superpowers or a flashy metal suit didn’t mean she wasn’t _just_ as capable of having an input.

“Well, he’s a big boy; he can take care of himself.”  She said calmly, she actually found it quite insulting that they were worried about him after only a few hours.  Had Natasha been present Darcy was nearly certain that no one would be concerned, but Tony was always one for the dramatic, and he had probably incited a panic in the rest of them.

“Do not worry; I am certain no harm has befallen your Steven.”  Thor said, clapping her on the shoulder so hard that she couldn’t help but wince, but she smiled through the pain.  She nodded at them all.

“I think I’m just going to go and…” she waved her hand in the general direction from where she came.  In truth, though she wasn’t worried about Steve, she had no desire to calm the rest of the team, and perpetuating the idea that she was concerned gave her an opportunity to leave.

Plus, while Steve wasn’t particularly good at texting her back, he would usually reply if it was necessary – or if she had sent him something particularly amusing.  When she had been repeatedly spamming him with her favorite 90’s boyband pictures – her version of bringing him up to date with the world – she had received a message off an unknown number in response. 

(A response which said _: is it no strings attached or do you want it that way?_ And left her with about five thousand questions in its own right, but that was beside the point). 

Surely, she couldn’t be the only one who knew that Steve had use of a second number?  Nevertheless, she fired off a quick text as she entered the elevator, not really expecting to receive a response.  Surprisingly, she received a text back before she even reached her apartment.

_At Coney Island.  Went for a run and got distracted, be back in an hour…_

She wondered what kind of distraction could last all day, but she didn’t think that was a question that could be answered in a text.  She was just about to reply when a second text came through.

_Unless you wanted to meet me somewhere?_

She read the message three times.  Put her phone down, poured herself a glass of water and read it again before she allowed herself to respond.  Things between them had become noticeably more intimate over the preceding weeks, but it still felt odd that she could call Steve a friend.  And it felt more than a little strange that he would choose to speak to her when he now knew that the rest of the team were concerned.  Her thumb balanced across the keyboard of a Stark phone, paused in the motion of responding while she decided what to say.

_Meet you in Brooklyn?  By the bridge – we can get pizza :)_ _  
_

By the time she had pulled on her coat and hat, he had replied.

_Be there in thirty minutes._

There was no way she’d make it by then, but it was not a question, so she merely concentrated on getting there as quickly as possible and didn’t bother to reply.  (She had been informed numerous times that she could be incredibly inconsiderate in that regard, but it had yet to force her to change).  In fact, it was almost forty minutes later by the time she got off the subway at York Street.  She pulled out her phone and dialed his number, he answered almost immediately.

“Hi Darcy,” he said with ease.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I’m literally just at York Street right now.  Where are you?  I’ll come to you.”  There was the sound of the phone shifting and Steve was clearly on the move.

“Don’t worry; I’ll be there in a second.”  True to his word the blond rounded the corner a few minutes later, jogging quickly along the street.  Despite the fact that it was pretty damn cold, he wore only a pair of light joggers, and a tight fitting tee – the same clothes he had left the tower in earlier that morning.  He slowed to a stop in front of her and waved awkwardly, and motioned to his attire.  “Sorry about this, I, uh, forgot about…”

“Meh, we’re going nowhere special.”  She responded, taking the opportunity to look him up and down, and thank Erskine for his _amazing_ work, before she looped her arm with his led him down towards her favored pizzeria.  In truth, she wasn’t all that hungry but she could always make room for Grimaldi’s pizza, and she certainly wasn’t in the business of passing up an opportunity to spend some time with Steve – and maybe find out what was going on in that beautiful head of his.

They were seated quickly, and handed menus without pomp or service, and in all honesty, that was one of the reasons she liked the place.  There was nothing worse than being accosted while she was trying to choose her meal.  The pressure of choosing something tasty in a limited time was very off-putting, in her opinion, although she knew that people were generally believed it constituted bad service not to keep asking if everything was okay.

“Are you ready to order?”  The young waiter, with a perfectly coiffed fringe obscuring his field of vision, asked, and she nodded.

“I’ll have a large small regular pizza, with extra mozzarella,” she smiled.

“You’re having a pie each?”  The waiter sounded vaguely appalled, and what was it with people and judging her for frequenting their place of work? 

“You haven’t seen him eat,” she smiled sweetly, and Steve merely nodded in a silent response.  The youngster looked the blond up and down in an appraising way, before pouting slightly.

“What can I get you, sir?”  He asked, clicking his pen several times.

“I’ll have a large regular pizza, with extra mozzarella, pepperoni and sausage.”  His stomach grumbled as he ordered.

“And two large diet cokes.”  Darcy added, not missing the irony of _that_ drinks order.

They sat quietly for a few moments, before the waiter nodded and moved to place their order.

“So what’s with the all-day excursion?”  She asked as lightly as she could manage.  It was obvious from his uncharacteristic sullenness that there was something on the soldier’s mind, and since he had been the one to suggest they meet up, it seemed as though he was looking for a reason to share it with her.

“I, uh,” their waiter bought over their drinks, before promptly disappearing.  Steve took a long drink, the action exposing his neck, an action which Darcy found inexplicably sexy.  She swallowed, trying to push all such thoughts out of her mind.  “I guess, uh, it’s just been one of those days.”  He finished lamely, laying his large hand out on the table in front of him.  She raised an eyebrow.  “Jeez, have you been spending time around Nat?”  He half-joked, but she merely pursed her lips and levelled him with an unimpressed look.

“You asked to meet for a reason,” she pointed out.

“I guess I wasn’t ready to go back to the tower,” he admitted, which was progress, but he lowered his eyes to the table.  “I started running this morning – just like always – and I just… I ended up at Coney Island.” 

“Please God; tell me you got the subway.”  She burst out, her usual tact present and correct.  He offered her a small smile, which didn’t reach his eyes, and shook his head.

“Super-Soldier, remember?”  He said with a lowered voice.  She rolled her eyes, but motioned for him to continue.  “I, uh,” he swallowed, ringing his hands together.  “I haven’t been there since,” he swallowed again, “since I went with Bucky.”  Ah, the mysterious friend turned assassin.  That explained a hell of a lot.  “I sat on the beach watching the sea, and uh, before I knew it the sun was setting.  I didn’t mean to worry anyone, I just… uh… I guess I wasn’t ready to leave.”  There was a sad tone to his voice that was unlike anything she had heard from him before.

“I can understand that,” she said softly, and when he looked up at her, his eyes were more than a little watery.

“That was our thing, you know.  With each other till the end of the line.  Just happens that the end of the line is Coney Island.  It used to make us laugh, because back then it seemed so far away.”  He laughed, but it was hollow.  “We were only kids.”  Darcy couldn’t help but think in that moment he sounded more like a ninety-six-year-old than she had ever heard him do before.  “Never thought we’d see anything outside of the tri-state area.  Kind of funny when you think about it.”  Darcy couldn’t see anything at all funny about it.  “Back then we didn’t know what was coming.”  He sighed, dragging his hand through his hair, and looking up at her for the first time since he had started to explain.  A solitary tear slid down his face.  She had never seen him look so vulnerable – or so young.  And really, she tended to forget that despite his position of authority, he was barely a handful of years older than her.  In real terms, he probably wasn’t even thirty.

“It’s not a bad thing to remember, that’s what keeps them alive,” she said, rather wisely she thought.  Sometimes, she could really be rather insightful.

“That’s the problem,” he admitted.  “I spent so long coming to terms with the fact that he was dead, then…” he trailed off, and she really didn’t need him to explain how much it must have hurt to discover his best friend had been nothing more than Hydra’s blunt instrument for the last seventy years.  “I think about that every day.  If I’d been a little quicker… stretched a little further…” he shrugged.

“Then he’d be dead by now anyway.”  She replied.  There was no point coddling him, if he wanted that he would have gone to Pepper.  “At least you have a chance.”  His eyebrows knitted together.

“Always a silver lining?”  He answered, carefully, and she grimaced in response.

“I just think that things probably happen for a reason.  I’m not saying that it makes it any easier to deal with, but at least he’s still here.”  It was sort-of surreal to be having a heart to heart with Captain America in the middle of a run-of-the-mill pizzeria, but hey, apparently that was her life now.

“That’s debatable.”  He said, but his tone was not harsh, if anything there was a note of hopefulness in there.  Darcy wondered whether the others had seen only the bad things.

“He pulled you from the river, didn’t he?”  She countered.  And he nodded.

“That’s supposed to be need-to-know.”  She shrugged.

“Tony needs-to-know everything, and that means I have access to much more information than my security clearance might suggest.”  And really, her job was awesome.  There was nothing more satisfying than knowing a secret when no one else did; it offered her an air of superiority which was sadly lacking in post other aspects of her life.  For his part, Steve smiled slightly.

“Natasha told me not to read too much into that.  I just – he was spotted at the Smithsonian, but if he remembered, then I’m sure he’d want to speak to me.  I don’t even know if he’s in there anymore.”  He admitted, with a shaky sigh.

“He’ll find his way back to you.” 

“But he shouldn’t have to.  What’s the point in being…” he struggled for the right words, his arms tensing and his jaw twitching as he did, “… _this_ , if I can’t save him.”  He shut his eyes, his long eyelashes fanning out against his cheeks. 

Darcy liked to think that she was a pretty observant person, but there was an undercurrent of raw emotion in Steve that she had not been aware of before.  Sure, she understood that he was pretty screwed up about Barnes – and really that should have been an understatement given how much the blond had suffered through in his short life.  But the general consensus was that Steve was adapting well to modern society, and that, she realized, was certainly up for debate as she watched him come apart in front of her.  Just because he tended to hide things didn’t necessarily mean that everything was honky dory in Captain America land.

Carefully, she reached over the table and placed her hand on top of his.

“None of this is your fault.”  She said crisply.  “You did the best you could in a really shitty circumstance – you always do – and _when_ Barnes is ready, he will find you.”

“You think so,” he looked so hopeful that it almost broke her heart; she nodded as their waiter returned with their pizza.

At any other time it might have been funny that he struggled to arrange two pizza holders on the small table, but at that moment, Darcy didn’t feel like she’d laugh again.  (Which was completely overdramatic and also untrue, but the image of Steve hurting so much while she could do so little caused her more pain than it would have done just three months before.)

They ate their pizza in quiet contemplation, and when the check came, Steve looked horrified at the realization he hadn’t got his wallet on him.  She waved him off in a silent dismissal and placed sixty dollars in the receipt book.

“I’m sorry, Darce” He said as they exited the restaurant, and she couldn’t help but note that was the first time he had called her anything other than her given name.  “I didn’t mean to spoil your evening.”  And wasn’t that just like Steve Rogers?  Even when he clearly had the right to be a sniveling mess, he would apologize for sharing any small amount of his pain with anyone else.  And his shoulders were impressive, but certainly didn’t deserve to carry the weight of the world, however much he seemed to believe they did.

“Don’t be stupid,” she warned.  “If you _ever_ want to talk about anything, then I’m your girl.  And I promise I won’t tell Stark.”  She said, trying to lighten the mood.  In truth, she didn’t feel particularly jovial herself, but anything was better than the crippling depression that she could sense creeping in from all corners.

In the hour or so they had been in there, the temperature had dropped significantly, and Darcy drew her coat up around her.  Steve paused their slow walk, at looked at her for a painfully long moment, before he threw one thick arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to his – admittedly musty smelling – chest.  The wave of heat was greatly appreciated, even if he didn’t smell particularly fresh and they continued their walk in companionable silence.

“I guess I’m paying your fare as well,” she said playfully as they reached the station, and he grimaced.

“I can run,” he said immediately, missing her meaning.  She swatted him on the arm for his stupidity.

“Yeah, cos you need the exercise.”  She rolled her eyes and he shrugged, but she didn’t miss the note of amusement that flashed – albeit briefly – across his face.  “Anyway, I need you to escort me home and make sure I’m not accosted by any weirdos.”  And really, given the type of people Darcy attracted that wasn’t entirely a lie.  (She’d once had a man bark in her face – because _that_ was normal).

“Whatever you say, ma’am.” 

“You know, usually I’d be pretty insulted by being called ma’am, but you kind-of make it work.”  He did smile at that, and Darcy felt warmer than she had done since they left the restaurant.

 

**********

“So, you and Steve?”  Clint asked with all the subtlety of a slap to the face.  Darcy promptly looked up from her computer and levelled him with a look.

“Hello, bird brain, what can I do for you?”  He merely crossed his distractingly impressive arms, (there were a lot of nice arms in Darcy’s life recently), across his chest and stared her down.  She sighed, standing up to level the playing field.  “What about us?”  She asked.  In the weeks since their pizza in Brooklyn, their food excursions had become more frequent, and it had not gone unnoticed by the rest of their housemates. 

(The week before, when Steve was out on a solo mission, Natasha had given her a unique version of the shovel talk.  It consisted of a handful of words and several terrifying arched eyebrows.  By the end of it, Darcy had been contemplating whether she could train herself to sleep with one eye open, or whether she could afford an apartment of her own.  However, Natasha was freakishly good at compartmentalization, and once the red-head was satisfied that she wasn’t going to break Steve’s heart, they had gone out for coffee and a Danish.  It had been a pretty decent afternoon out in the end.)

Now, apparently, it was Clint’s turn.

“It just seems like you get on really well.”

“Well, yeah.”  She admitted.  It was strange, they should have clashed horrifically, since Steve was a mask of control and propriety and she would gladly sit in the common room with food stains on her pajamas watching Catfish marathons like it was her job.  Clint smiled at her response.

“And you seem to see each other a lot,” he continued, his toned becoming increasingly probing.

“Right.”  She replied, because at that point he really might as well have got out a fishing rod and tried to actively bait her.

“Well?”  It was posed as a question, but she shrugged in response.  He stared at her for a moment before his face broke out into a laugh.  “You’re not gonna give me anything, are you?”

“There’s _nothing_ to give.  I mean, between you and Natasha, don’t you think that if we were anything more than friends that the two of you would have figured it out?  He doesn’t see me like that, and I, uh,” she paused.  She was _painfully_ aware of what a terrible liar she was, and Clint was – as his codename suggested – terribly observant, so there was no point in denying she was attracted to Steve.  Just in the casual, would climb him like a tree, way.  “I’m okay with that.”  Clint nodded in a muted understanding.

“I guess I was wrong then.”  He didn’t sound remotely like he meant it.  She opened her mouth to respond, but in true Steve fashion, he chose that moment to appear and Darcy promptly snapped her mouth shut.

“Clint,” he nodded in acknowledgement.  “Are you joining us for dinner?”  He moved to stand next to Clint and Darcy was struck by how small the archer appeared next to him.  Intelligently, she knew Clint was a fairly big guy - who was she kidding, the guy was ripped - and in any other company he would have been the focus of Darcy’s attention, but next to Steve he looked distinctly average.  Yeah, she was so far beyond fucked that it was unreal, and judging by the look on Clint’s face, he knew it just as well as she did.

“Nah, just came to deliver some paperwork for Stark.”  The lie slipped effortlessly off his tongue, and Darcy was grateful for his deception.

“Oh right,” Steve looked between them for a few moments.  “Well, we’re going for Japanese food.  Apparently,” he gave her a pointed look, “the cabbage pancakes are amazing.”  He didn’t look remotely convinced.

“It’s called okonomiyaki, and it’s amazing.”  She defended, and Steve shot her an amused smile, which wasn’t missed by Clint who raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever you say Darcy, whatever you say.”  His words had a double meaning, and she was left to stare at his retreating form in annoyance.

“So, cabbage pancakes?”  Darcy grabbed her coat from the back of her chair.

“Lead the way, Cap.”  She grinned, trying not to think about what Clint had said, and looped a customary arm through Steve’s.  Given their friendly banter (and really, where the hell had that come from?) she could understand why people would think there was something more than a casual friendship between them.  However, actually being privy to their shared interactions she was painfully aware just how little attraction he exhibited towards her.

“I’m not the one in the know,” he lead them to the elevator anyway and she stifled a laugh.

“I _genuinely_ thought you were about to say you weren’t the man with the plan.  I would have had a field day with that.”  She sighed dramatically, forgetting her earlier concerns, and leaning into his arm.

“Well, you know that’s part of my job: get the bad guys, save the world, amuse Darcy,” he offered her a soft smile.  From anyone else – Clint, for example, not that she was annoyed by their earlier conversation – that might have seemed like a rather arrogant statement, but somewhat from Steve it seemed almost self-effacing. 

“And my job is to make sure you get your weekly dose of some of the most amazing foodstuffs available to a twenty-first century New Yorker.”  She tapped his stomach playfully, but didn’t miss the way his abs tensed and shifted as she did.  “Have you been working out?”  She asked sarcastically, wondering whether the movement was a deliberate attempt to showcase his body or whether that was just what his body did naturally.

“Ha.”

“Can’t have you wasting away, can we?”  Steve laughed and the sound reverberated off the walls of the open plan lobby.

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the dark-framed glasses he had taken to wearing on their outings in an attempt to look less like Captain America.

“Don’t ruin it!  I like to think I’m doing my bit for national security,” she replied playfully but kept her eyes aimed straight ahead.  She didn’t need to look at him to know how much the glasses highlighted his eyes, or how they played with the light on his face so that he looked like a different person.  Who knew that glasses could have such a positive affect?  Clark Kent, that was who.  And didn’t that just sum up the fucked up world she now called home?  “You know what?  I feel like Lois Lane off for a date with Superman.”  She bit her tongue almost immediately after she said it, and Steve paused, causing her to panic.  “I mean, not the date part, but the whole glasses and the secret superhero thing?  And really, Lois Lane was dumb ‘cos you look hot-different,” she corrected quickly, “in glasses, but I’d still know you were you.”  She continued to walk and tried to ignore the rapid pumping of her heart.

“You trying to tell me my ingenuous disguise doesn’t work?”  He replied lightly, and she _almost_ groaned, because it worked in all of the right ways.  (If the right ways were him trying to tease her out of her underwear.)

“I’m trying to tell you, Lois Lane was an idiot who couldn’t see what was right in front of her face.”  She replied after a too-long pause.  Steve nodded.

“I guess that’s human nature sometimes,” he conceded rather enigmatically.

They took the subway to Astoria Place (where Darcy became _very_ acquainted with a particularly fragrant individual, and Steve failed to save her), and wondered down Ninth until they reached the little hole-in-the-wall food shop Darcy had been raving about for about a month.  Outside the store was a small, well-worn, wooden bench, that the brunette dragged her hand over when they walked by it.  She bundled Steve inside the tiny shop and grinned at the man behind the counter.  She wasn’t exactly a regular customer, but she’d been in enough for him to recognize her and return her grin easily.

“Two ebi okonomiyaki, all of the sauces and two green teas please.”  She motioned to the fridge behind the counter; her server smiled as she stuffed the change from her thirty dollars in the tip box.  She took the drinks and left the shop, sitting on the bench to wait for their order.  Steve stood in front of her awkwardly, peering into the shop and she rolled her eyes.  “Sit down Rogers; they’ll call us when it’s done.”  He sat down next to her, folding his hands awkwardly across his crotch – an action that did _nothing_ to prevent her from noticing the bulge there.  She took a careful breath so that she didn’t say something absolutely mortifying; she merely crossed her legs and gave him room to spread out.

“It’s cold out,” he said, destroying the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them with no warning.  She offered him little more than a nod, since she _still_ didn’t feel like she could comment, but drew her coat further around her chest.  At that he immediately stood up and pulled his own coat off.  “Here,” he offered her the coat.  Darcy was pretty sure her eyes popped out of her head at that, Steve Rogers could not be real.

“I don’t need your coat.”  She said rather abruptly, but closed her eyes.  “The food’ll be here soon and then we can get moving again.”  She added softly, but in the process of doing so shivered slightly.  He looked at her knowingly and she accepted the jacket because there was no point arguing with Captain America when he had his mind set on something.  “Just until the food is done.”  She insisted as Steve sat back down again.

They sat in for several minutes, their thighs pressed together, and Darcy could feel the heat spreading through her own leg.  She bit her lip and concentrated on checking her emails lest she slip and managed to declare her undying love with Steve.  A man appeared at the door just as Darcy was contemplating starting a game of Angry Birds – and when the _hell_ had the atmosphere between them become so awkward – and offered them two clear plastic trays and a couple of pairs of chopsticks.  Steve stood and accepted them gladly while Darcy hauled her ass up off the bench, wincing at the sudden chill at her back.  Still, she had promised him his coat back, and she wasn’t going to go back on her word.  She pulled it off and handed it back to him, only to have him roll his eye.  He was so damn infuriating like that.  (Infuriating in a really sexy way that made Darcy want to rip the food out of his hands and plant her ass in them.  And _God,_ that was not an image she needed).

“I don’t need it.  You do.”  He insisted.

“So you don’t feel the cold?  Out of the two of us, which one spent seventy years frozen?”  It was harsh, and she regretted it the moment the words left her mouth.  “Oh Steve, I’m sorry.”  She looked at the ground, biting her lip and bracing herself for the inevitable argument.  When it didn’t come, she looked up and saw he was laughing quietly to himself.  Okay, _so_ not the reaction she had been expecting.

“Sorry, but,” he laughed a little more, the action causing small crinkles to form at the corners of his eyes, “its New York.  I’m not going to freeze between here and the subway.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m not even that cold,” he insisted.

“But you are cold.”  She put a hand on her hip and he shook his head.

“Just shut up and eat your cabbage.”  She huffed, but pulled his jacket over her own and almost petulantly snatched the proffered container off him.

“Well, don’t blame me if you get sick.”  Steve raised an eyebrow.  “Well, with all these super bugs around you never know.”  She huffed and started to walk back towards the subway, knowing that he was smirking beside her.  Damn, she needed to work on her interpersonal skills, or at the very least she needed to be better at dealing with how attractive Steve was.

She took a big mouthful of warm pancake-y goodness and all of her stress dissipated.  Next to her Steve eyed the chunk he held in his chopsticks with suspicion.  (One of the more surprising things she’d learned was that Steve was surprisingly proficient in the use of chopsticks).  He sniffed a chunk a couple of times, and Darcy felt herself look skyward in exasperation, almost falling over her own feet in the process.  Steve snorted, and she elbowed him in the ribs.  For all he was Captain America, he could be a real child at times. 

When he eventually took a bite, his expression changed and while she couldn’t be entirely sure due to the noise of the traffic, she swore he even groaned a little in pleasure.

“Yep, I told you so.”  She smugly took another bite of her own food and knocked her shoulder against his – well, bicep – with an ease that surprised even her.  Maybe there would be a time when she could be trusted to act like a normal human being around him.

 

**********

 

“Really?  That’s the best you can do?”  She looked up at the big sign in front of her.  Though she had never managed to make it all the way to Coney Island – she’d tried in her senior year of high school but the car had broken down before they left Pittsburg – she had seen plenty or Nathan’s hot dog stands.

“This is the original, it was here when I used to come with Bucky,” he smiled encouragingly at her.

“Great, just what I wanted, hot dogs with a side of emotional blackmail.”  She was unconvinced that the dogs would be any better than ordinary ones, but she figured that the meal might teach her more about him.

“We used to come here whenever we had some spare cash,” she got the impression that wasn’t very often from the fond smile that passed over his features.  “We even came once in the snow.”  In Darcy’s opinion, it was cold enough for snow; she shuddered and shoved her hands in the pockets of her parker.  She had wondered why he had insisted she wear warm clothes, and dragged her halfway across the state to sit on a promenade in the middle of winter when he had promised her food, but it seemed as though he had taken her on a nostalgia tour.

“He needs to find himself before he can think of finding you.”  He smiled a little at that.

“I guess I spent so long wanting to go back there that I didn’t realize what I had here.”  He admitted, a little lost in his own thoughts.  “I’m – uh – sorry about this,” a half-hearted shrug flowed over his shoulders, “it seemed like a _really_ good idea in my head.  Probably should have checked the weather.”  He opened his mouth and let his breath come out as a cloud against the cold air in a demonstration.

“I feel great,” she wiggled her gloved fingers for emphasis, “nice and toasty.  So we should go and order,” she said, sensing his impending spiral into sadness and opting to try and turn his attention back to food. 

“I guess we should,” he offered her an exaggerated grin.  “Lead the way, Miss Lewis.”  He gestured towards the hotdog stand.

Oddly enough there was no queue at the half-shut stand, and they were handed their dogs fresh off the grill in record time.  Steve slathered his in sauerkraut and sauce and took a big bite, while she merely looked at hers in vague disinterest.  She could take a lot of things, but it _really_ didn’t look that appealing, and just the thought of what went into them was enough to make her cringe.  However, she was a woman of her word.  Plus, she had teased Steve mercilessly over his apprehension to try the okonomiyaki, so she was giving him no reason to reciprocate. 

She took a big bite, chewed twice, and immediately ran to the bin to get rid of the thing.

“Seriously!?  What the hell is wrong with you?  That was awful, truly vile.”  She made a show of sticking out her tongue in disgust and took a big gulp of coke.  Steve stopped laughing just long enough to eat the rest of his in two enthusiastic bites.

“Tastes just fine to me,” he grinned.

She had never been so annoyed at him.  It was one thing to tease her, but it was another to destroy her deep relationship with food.  The one relationship which had stood the test of time.  Steve started laughing again.

“Damnit, I said that out loud, right?”  He nodded and she groaned in frustration.  “Urgh.  All of the nice things I’ve shared with you and you give me that?  It should be illegal!  It was like the food equivalent of a sexually transmitted disease.  I mean, I’d rather have a nasty assed street dog.”  She physically shuddered at the prospect.  “Why the hell was it chewy?”  She accused, poking Steve on the chest with an extremely stressed finger.  “Who even does that?  I mean, has it been there since nineteen forty?  What exactly are they famous for, anyway?  Poisoning people?”  She paced back and forth along the beach front, waving her hand in annoyance and garnering the interest of a couple of other hardy souls who were on the beach.  “I might have to throw myself in the sea.  _Anything_ to get the taste of that out of my…” Steve appeared from nowhere, stepping into her personal space.  His lips collided with hers a little too roughly and definitely unexpectedly. 

The blond drew back quickly, leaving her to blink up at him in stunned silence (really the man should win an award because almost no one could silence her mid-rant).  Where the _hell_ had that come from?  Not that she was complaining, because really, go team Darcy, but she had been rendered mute, which wasn’t exactly usual.  She touched her lips as if to confirm that she had just been kissed.

“You taste like sausage,” she almost whined.

“I’m sorry, I just… you were so cute, and I thought – well, Clint said and Natasha actually, so I just…” she cut him off with a quick kiss that made them both laugh.

“Are you _kidding_ me?  Did you not hear me?  I love those hotdogs, they’re the best thing I’ve ever eaten.  Just can’t get enough of the taste,” he smirked and leaned own to kiss her again.  Damn it, she owed the assassins a beer. 

“We should go back to the tower,” Steve drew back and snaked an arm over her shoulders.  Darcy placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him in wide-eyed innocence.

“Sex on the first date?  I’m not sure what kind of girl you think I am.”  The kind of girl who’d have already be riding him like a bucking bronco if they’d been somewhere more private.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve been dating this whole time.”  He pulled her even closer as they strolled back through the closed amusement park towards the station.

“Yeaaaah, we’re kind-of dumb.” 

“Slow on the uptake, but we got there in the end.”  He agreed, causing her to smile.  “Nat’s been telling me to kiss you for months.”  Oh good, that meant that she could go back to sleeping without the fear of waking up to face the wrath of Natasha’s terrifying eyebrows

“Oh _God,_ they’re going to be insufferable.”  She groaned, overdramatically.  Still, they could say what they wanted.  She, Darcy Lewis, was dating Captain America.  And _man_ her life was fucking awesome.

 


End file.
